


A Quiet Redemption

by Lt_Cmdr_Scribbler



Category: Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic
Genre: Cathar, F/M, One Night Stands, Oneshot, Plot Wouldn't Leave Me Alone, Rare Pairings, Self-Esteem Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-16
Updated: 2018-02-16
Packaged: 2019-03-19 07:18:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13699605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lt_Cmdr_Scribbler/pseuds/Lt_Cmdr_Scribbler
Summary: "You're everything a woman should be. Wish I'd met you when I was still a man."Or,the author is upset that the female Bounty Hunter never got to even flirt with Medle, even with a perfect set up like that quote already in the game.





	A Quiet Redemption

**Author's Note:**

> Medle didn't have a first name or a backstory that I could find, so none of the background mentioned here is canon, just my own whimsy. 
> 
> (when do I ever write within canon tho, let's be real)

Captain Marcol Medle made the worst mistake of his life, and he didn't even regret it, much. He'd gotten to watch the hunter- Alesa Arratay, she called herself -walk out of his office twice, in the end. 

Limping to the Intelligence Headquarters medcenter was slow going, but Medle was hardly a stranger to pain. He'd been a proper Mandalorian once, then an Imperial soldier, then a bloody spy. Joining the army had been a desperate move of a young idiot who needed to know who he was without the mantel of a clan hanging over his head, but there were days in Intelligence that made Marc miss his clan cousins and the military, both.

In the medcenter, none of the biological staff paid him any attention, which tracked with what Medle knew. Knowing this crafty lot, someone had already forwarded the security feed from his office to the Minister of Intelligence and he was in the process of getting fired. At least he'd never made higher than Captain, he thought wryly, even with all the scheming. They had no need to violently dispose of somebody with such a low rank, so they wouldn't waste any resources to do it. That was fine by Medle: keeping his head on his shoulders was one of his highest priorities.

Perched uncomfortably on a biobed, Marc could feel his personal comm unit- probably remotely decrypted by the Minders when his paperwork went through -buzzing in his pocket. He took it in his hand and turned it over to see congratulatory messages scroll down the screen along with some rather pointed questions.

_LK:   Congrats on getting out of the snake nest._

_HM:   Are you keeping up with the Great Hunt this year, Marc?_

_SM:   I wonder what was holding up that last hunter._

_JJ:   She's wearing a headwrap, but her eyes look Cathar from where I am._

In all the excitement, he'd forgotten that the melee fight was today. Not to mention that it should've been damn near impossible for even the most gossipy clan cousins to have heard his news already, but he remembered the curious little implant on Alesa's petite hunting partner.

_CaptMM:   She's a Cathar under that wrap, trust me._

_LK:   You know something we don't, Marc?_

_CaptMM:   No comment._

Marc wished that he could see her fight in the arena. Alesa had knocked him out cold before putting a flesh wound in his gut, but the guards that had stood in his office had been unrecognizable when she was through with them. He remembered her stare as he regained his senses, cold and green like a vinecat's and just as awe-inspiring.

Working among spies had taught Medle how to read people with the best, and he'd read a lie clear as an Alderaan sky when she'd said, "I'm glad this didn't have to get personal."

But he'd played along, hadn't he, when he replied, "It never was, believe me."

She had just tried to kill him, after all. It wasn't like there was much else to say. 

* * *

 

Marc Medle hadn't forgotten her in a year's time, when his torso had healed and he wore durasteel armor in his clan colors again. He'd kept up with the Great Hunt, but only from afar and with a forced sense of detachment. After checking the newsfeeds for the names of dead hunters and confirming that Alesa Arratay wasn't among them, he would immediately close the feed and berate himself. It wasn't personal, they had agreed.

He made sure to get himself put on Mandalore's dreadnought to welcome her, and got some smart remarks about still being a schemer. He berated himself for that, too.

Alesa didn't wear a helmet anymore, or at least she hadn't brought one with her. She looked like she hadn't changed at all, with her black stripes stark against her off-white fur and one scar marring the smooth planes of her razor sharp cheekbones.

"Fancy seeing you here," he remarked with a smile, as if they were no more than civilians, casual acquaintances, meeting up in the cantina. 

Her green eyes lit up immediately, and Marc tried not to feel proud about that. When she spoke, her voice was almost a satisfied purr. "I could say the same thing, Medle. How's your side healing up?"

So she did remember him. That made things... slightly less awkward, perhaps.

"Pretty well, thanks," he replied easily. And, because he was buzzed, that fuzzy state between merely tipsy and halfway off the bar stool, he murmured, "D'you want to admire your work?"

She let out a laugh at that and tipped her head back. Her pink lips curved into a smile that revealed sharp white teeth that tapered into points. "I honestly thought you'd never ask."

The rest of the evening passed in snapshots: each of them carefully removing their armor, the vastly strange sensation that was his hands rubbing against her fur, her small talon-like nails tracing the scar on his face. At some point in the evening, her shocking-soft lips pressed a kiss on the scar that she left a year ago, as if to apologize. 

They'd gone back to her ship, so Medle was surprised to see that the bed was empty when he woke up. His armor was in a neat and orderly pile, and a glass of semi-viscous liquid sat next to it.  _Hangover cure_ , read one side of the card, and he downed the shot with a smile. 

Despite seeing the shadow of writing on the card's opposite side, Marc resisted the urge to read it until Alesa's- the Champion's -departure to Hoth.

 

 _You had been a man the whole time, Medel. You just needed to realize it. Take care not to forget again. ~Alesa_  


End file.
